Echoes: Call of the Bad Wolf
by Guardian Saturn
Summary: What if Nine wasn't the First Doctor Rose Tyler met? What if there was more to Bad Wolf than meets the eye? Alt!New Who, completely.
1. Prologue: An Ordinary Girl

_My name is Rose Tyler. I'm nineteen years old…I work in a shop called Henrik's….there's not much else…_

The bus lurched as it pulled up to the stop at the end of Givens Road, allowing the four passengers who always got off at that stop every day to get off. One of them was a young woman dressed in jeans, a grey t-shirt, and blue anorak. She paused for a moment as she got off the bus and pulled a tiny mp3 player from her pocket and adjusted the volume. Her blonde hair was plaited into two pigtails that fell just past her shoulders and given enough time at work they'd be freed from their braided confinement and left free to hang in waves around her face. She wasn't anything completely special…not a model, not a singer, not an actress…she was just a normal girl living a normal life.

_I don't do much…go out with my mate Shireen is really it. I just ended a really bad relationship a while back and she's trying to get me out there again, but I'm not sure. I could kick myself for moving in with Jimmy…all he did was give me hell and what do I have to show for it? A dead end job folding pants and living with my mum until I can get back on my feet. What kind of life is that?_

Her day was always full of tedious, mundane, and all around normal activities that she fooled herself into enjoying, but knew somewhere there was a better life. Yes, a better life…she dreamed of a better life. She dreamed of it so often that sometimes it was hard to tell what were dreams and what was reality. Sometimes during her time at work she'd drift off into her mind and think up amazing stories for herself…stories filled with adventure and rescue and daring-do where she was the heroine alongside a brave, dashing and ultimately amazing hero. Alas though…these dreams hadn't come true yet.

_Sometimes I find myself wondering why I stay here. Why do I work that job and stay with mum when I know I can find something better? Why don't I go and take my A levels and go to school? Why don't I try to find someone to date? Well…there's Mickey, but I've known him for too long as a friend. He's too safe. I know he cares about me, but where's the fun in that? I mean, if all I wanted to do was go over to his flat and watch him sit on the computer as a date I think I could do that without being his girlfriend, couldn't I? I don't know…I'm stuck. I'm so stuck. And those dreams aren't helping any…they just make me more restless._

She dreamt at night…dreams of another life, another place, and another Rose. That Rose had no problem being chased by monsters and running away, taunting them. That Rose did things, great things, and helped people. That Rose didn't just go to work, come home, eat chips, and go to bed. And those dreams were so real! When she would wake up she could still feel her heart racing and her legs cramping from running. She could still feel the cold of being locked in a cell and having no conceivable way out. She could still feel the hand of her hero pressed into hers. She could still hear him screaming her name as a golden light and singing covered her. She could still see those eyes in midst of the golden halo, but she couldn't see anything else.

_My name is Rose Tyler. I dream of doing something great. I can feel that I'm destined to do something better than this. I can feel that maybe sometime or somewhere I've done great things. Maybe I really was an action hero and mum's just refused to tell me. She's too protective. I can feel that this life isn't enough for me and I'm ready to take it on. I'm ready to be more than just Rose Tyler._

And she would be.


	2. Chapter 1: A New Old Face

Jackie had left earlier that morning in a whirlwind of hugs, kisses and warnings not to blow the flat up while she was in Wales for two weeks. Rose had smiled as she pulled her hair into a ponytail and nodded that she wouldn't do anything stupid and that she was sorry that she couldn't get out of work to go see her Gran. Jackie wasn't exactly pleased with leaving her nineteen year old daughter home alone for a couple of weeks, but didn't have a choice as her mother wasn't doing exactly stellar due to a hip replacement earlier in the year.

"You'll be sure and lock the doors?" Jackie asked, trying to load her luggage up in both arms and maneuver through the hallway to the living room.

"Yes, mum." Rose answered, already annoyed.

"And you'll not go out unless someone's with you?"

"Of course, mum."

"And don't eat just chips while I'm gone. There's food in the fridge and a list of things you can make…there's no reason to junk yourself out just because I'm not here to cook."

Rose rolled her eyes and sifted through the piles of clothing all over her bed in search of her purse. , "I know, mum."

"Oh…I wish you were going with me. Your Gran always loves to see you…" Jackie gushed as she stood watch in Rose's doorway.

"I know…but I have to work…" Rose started, but didn't quite have the energy to have that fight again.

"I know you think you need to pay me back, but you don't. I love having you back home."

"I know, mum. I know. Look, I have to go. Call me tonight and tell me you got there okay." Rose rushed past her mother and tugged a black jacket on over her already bulky three layers of clothes. Jackie sighed and ran a hand through her platinum hair, watching as her daughter pulled on mittens and a scarf and readied herself for another normal, mundane day at work.

"You know I just want what's best for you, don't you?" Jackie asked as Rose made for the door.

The younger girl stopped and looked at her mother, hazel eyes scanning her face for some sign that it was just an off hand remark and not the same sentimental gushing that had been coming out of her mouth since the day her daughter had come home. Jackie's eyes were wide and from that her intentions were like an open book…she wanted her daughter home because she was lonely and didn't have anyone else. Rose silently cursed her father for dying before they could have any more kids, so that all the pressure wouldn't be on her leaving all the pressure on Rose to do exactly what Jackie wanted.

"I know. I just…I have to go. Love you." Rose mumbled and slid out the door, shoving her hands in her pockets as she made her way down the steps to the street.

The day had been worse than normal and Rose could feel the tension of it slowly building in her shoulders as she hunched over the last display that she had to put together for the afternoon. It had been a slow day due to the crappy weather, yet she wasn't one of the lucky ones who had gotten the all clear to go home. She sighed, tugging on the hem of a skirt that wrapped around the legs of a mannequin, and stood back to admire her work. It looked good. Therein laywas the problem.

It wasn't as if Rose particularly hated her job or was bad at it; it just didn't exactly give her the mental stimulation that a job should. It was easy, repetitive, paid well, and let her have fun with the displays, but it just didn't…have that something that she needed. Not that she was about to quit anytime soon, though. Oh no, Rose saw a long future of folding shirts and skirts and socks ahead of her to pay back the debt she owed her mother. It sickened her, really.

Rain and sleet had thundered down for most of the afternoon and with it brought , bringing with it a feeling of cold that Rose couldn't shake even though she was indoors. It was as if she'd felt it before…tenfold…and her bones refused to let go of it. When she had gone out for lunch earlier in the day it had taken her a solid half hour or so to keep her hands from shaking after she'd come back. It worried her. Even as she wound her fingers through the soft warmth of the fleece sweaters she was supposed to be hanging up her hands still refused to stop trembling. In a brief moment she wondered if maybe she was sick…which of course would happen the day Jackie left for two weeks.

"I'm fine." She whispered to herself and shook her head.

The end of business hours came finally and none too soon for the blonde. She wrapped herself back up in the bulk of the jacket and waved good bye to her co workers before heading down to the employee entrance. As she walked through the long corridor past all the stock and, inventory and extras she felt a small tingle up her spine that she couldn't place. A thrill washed over her as she locked eyes with one of the shop dummies and in less than a thought she transported away to that other time with the other Rose.

A haze of golden light filled her mind and a soft singing rang in her ears. She saw the dummies and felt that same excitement as she felt a hand slide into hers. In her mind she saw clear blue eyes looking up at her. She knew those eyes. She'd seen them before, but couldn't quite place where. Her eyes closed and the light brightened a bit as the singing softened even still and a voice called to her. The words were muffled, but the presence of those blue eyes haunted her. Something was calling her….and in an instant it was gone.

Rose found herself outside and in the biting cold once the fog in her mind cleared. She shivered as the sudden onslaught of rain and sleet rain down her face and into the neckline of her shirt. It was a horrendous night to be out, she realized as she wrapped her arms around herself, but there was something that just felt…_right_. Light rushed past her as a car sped by and in that moment, despite the rain and cold and misery that the weather was, Rose decided that she wouldn't take the bus home and would walk instead. She could hear Jackie's voice in her head as she turned away from the bench covered by what looked like a hard plastic tent and started home on foot, _"you'll catch your death out there!"_

Rose smiled and huddled more into her jacket, "I don't care."

By the time she neared the Estates it was pretty apparent that walking was had been an incredibly stupid idea. Her hands shook and burned with how cold it wascold and breathing seemed to be onlywas a luxury restricted to theevery few moments after she stopped to rest. No, she wouldn't be doing this again in such weather. Not ever again.

A powerful wind ripped through the spaces between the buildings, sending a shiver through her body that almost pushed Rose her to her knees through her body. Wet papers and trash whirled through the air as the wind screeched by, the sound accompanying it echoing echoed in her ears as she crouched low to keep herself from falling over. In a momentA moment later she heard a crash and looked up through her blonde tresses that whipped in front of her face to see something falling out of the sky. With a yelp Rose ducked over to a wall and covered her face with her hands, wincing as she heard the sound of wood and metal scraping along the concrete.

Rose's eyes openedShe opened her eyes as the gale slowed to seeand saw that not far from where she crouched stood a tall blue box. She squinted at the lights tThrough the rain she squinted at the lights that poured out from above it and she murmured slightly as she read the inscription of "Police Public Call Box". She'd never seen one of those before. Llet alone one that fell out of the sky during what felt like a hurricane. It took a moment for her mind to clear as she shakily got to her feet and made her way over to the structure.

A hum resonated from the wood as she neared it and a sense of ease passed through her, taking away all of the fear and panic she'd just been feeling. A hand went to rest She rested her hand against the door and for a split second the hum pulsed through her body. for a split second and withWith it came the singing and brilliant gold light again. This time nothing called out to her, but a distinct feeling of home and safety erupted into her heart. Everything melted away in that moment…all the cold and , boredom and, fear and anxiety gave way to the brilliance that shrouded her in warmth and comfort. She was where she needed to be. Then, as quickly as it had come, it slid away and she was back to huddling against the box to hide herself from the wind.

Rose stayed that way for a bit, clinging to the structure for dear life as the storm raged on. Her breathing slowed as she rested her forehead against the door; something very familiar feeling seepeding into her mind as she groped at the handles absentmindedly. There had to be something inside.

No sooner had the thought processed in her mind the doors pulled open, causing Rose to jump back and cry out in surprise. A man stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame with one hand clutching at his chest. His eyes were squeezed shut and blood seemed to cover his torso from the chest down. She looked on, wide eyed, as the man stumbled from the doorway and turned to pull the wooden slats closed. He, too, leaned against them for support before sinking to his knees. A moan cut through the sounds of the wind in the alley as he slumped down further.

Rose blinked a few times and went to his side, one hand resting on his shoulder. The rain had already soaked his long, light brown curls and matted them to his forehead, to makemaking him look worse than he already did. HisA handsome face was contorted and twisted in pain as he gripped at the bloodied vest he wore. Sounds of labored breathing pushed through his teeth and lips before his eyes opened slowly to focus on Rose. She gasped, something triggering in her mind, as deep blue eyes fixed on her.

"Please…help me..." the man moaned, turning to face her.

Rose gaped a bit and looked around at the empty streets. No one would be out during the storm and if she came to a door carting a body people might worry about their safety. No, she was on her own, "I'll call an ambulance…" she said evenly, trying to keep her voice calm, and pulled out her mobile.

The man's eyes widened for a second and he snatched the phone from her hand. He fumbled with the buttons but managed to turn it off and looked up into Rose's hazel eyes, "No…they'll kill me. Please…you have to help me…"

Rose shook her head, "what can I do? You'll bleed to death before I can do anything!"

"The doctors…they'll just cause problems for me…please…I just need somewhere to rest." His breathing slowed and his face paled as he tried to speak.

Rose grabbed her mobile out of the man's hand and turned it back on, going through her contacts list in a panic. Any other sane person in the same situation would completely ignore this person's plea and call for help. Rose understood that well enough and knew that somewhere along the line it would probably come back to bite her but for some reason that she couldn't place she didn't care. All she knew was that deep down in her heart she had to help him…and she was the only one who could.

No one she knew could help her, though…or would in this kind of situation. Finally she settled on Mickey and dialed, cursing softly as it went to his answer phone. With a frustrated cry she shoved the phone back in her pocket and leaned back over him, shoving back the soaked, blonde strands that had escaped her ponytail during the walk home.

"Think you could walk if I helped you?" she asked, sliding the man's arm around her shoulders as carefully as she could.

"I don't know…maybe." He was breathless and Rose shook a little as she felt him start to tremble.

"Worth a try. Come on, then." And with a strength she didn't know she had she stood up, pulling him to his feet.

"Thank you…" the man whispered and the two made their way toward the flat in silence.


	3. Chapter 2: Something Right

By the time the two had reached the door to the flat Rose was bearing practically all the strange man's weight. He tried to walk, stumbling beside her as his breath hissed between his teeth as they moved. The doorframe held him up as Rose fumbled with the lock, her hands shaking from the cold and wet of the storm.

Finally, upon twisting the key in the lock he dropped to the floor upon, feeling the first blast of heat on his shivering body. Rose dropped as well, her hands working over the green velvet coat, trying to turn him over so she could see his face. A murmured curse escaped her lips as she raked back the rogue strands of hair and attempted to move him, if only a little.

"What the hell are you doin'?" a voice asked from just beyond the doorway and Rose turned to see a bundled up Mickey Smith staring at her.

"Help me get him inside."

"What?"

"I said help me!" she ordered and tugged at the man's shoulders to lay him on his back.

Mickey moved to crouch down beside her, helping move the man to rest on his back. Mickey stood up, backing away with a start as he saw the blood and the pained expression on the man's face. Rose kept held her ground, her hands working over the grey silk vest and cravat, uncaring as her handsthey were instantly stained red.

"The hell's going on? What happened to 'im?" Mickey shouted, pointing.

"Keep it down. You want everyone in the building to hear you? Help me get him into my room…Mum'll freak if there's blood on the carpet." Rose again slid the man's arm around her shoulders and attempted to stand, but couldn't quite lift his weight., "Ccome on. Help me!"

Mickey shook his head, staying in the doorway as Rose shakily got to feet. The man cried out, his eyes opening and his free hand gripping at his chest, "what's going on?"

"We're getting' you inside. Can you stand?" Rose asked, looping her arm that wasn't holding him across her shoulders around his waist.

"We'll see…" he moved, knees wobbling as they both stood in sync.

"What tThe hell happened to you? You ought to be dead losing' that much blood…" Mickey pointed at him as Rose glowered.

"Now's not exactly the time for this!" she hissed and turned, starting toward her bedroom as the man shuffled alongside her.

"This is the perfect time for this!" Mickey shouted and followed after them, closing the door to on the bitter cold.

Rose eased a bit as the entered her room, kicking aside clothes and other assorted things as she led the now failing man at her side to her bed. They both fell as his knees gave, him landing with a sharp cry and Rose immediately leaned over to inspect the damage. Again the man's hand went to his chest, fresh blood pouring against the white shirt that clung to his chest beneath the now open grey silk vest.

"Help me get h'im out of these clothes and into something warm…he's shaking." Rose ordered Mickey, her hands already pushing the green velvet coat off of his shoulders and shoving at the vest beneath it.

"I'm not touchin' him! If he dies we're the first suspects!" Mickey shouted, crossing his arms.

"Fine…look, can you sit up? It'll only be for a second, I promise…" she cooed, pulling him into a sitting position and slid both the jacket and vest off, undoing the cravat as well in a smooth motion.

He sat there compliantly, his eyes starting to glaze over, and swayedswaying a bit as Rose moved to undo the buttons of the white shirt that was so stained with blood. Suddenly his eyes snapped open and his hands wrapped around hers, deep blue eyes looking into her hazel ones. Her voice caught; a sudden warmth spilling up from somewhere in her that she couldn't place.

"We'll get you cleaned up and into bed..." Rose murmured, lost in the abyss of blue.

His hands squeezed her lightly, "I'll manage here…could I trouble you for some hot water?"

Rose nodded, "I'll draw a bath for you…" and stood, her hands still wrapped in his.

"Thank you..." he whispered, sliding his hands away from hers and started to unbutton the rest of the shirt shakily.

"Go grab some sweat pants and a shirt from mum's room. There should be some in the wardrobe hangin' up." Rose turned to Mickey, automatically going to shove at her hair but stopped when she noticed that her hands were covered in blood. , "Hhurry!."

Mickey followed her to the washroom as she leaned over the chipped porcelain tub and started the hot water from the tap. She rinsed her hands, the water tinting pink as she rubbed them beneath the stream before putting the stopper in the drain. Her hands shook as she pulled them from the water and watched it for a minute, taking a few deep breaths to steady herself.

"Rose, what the hell happened? Who is he?" Mickey asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"I told you to go get him some clothes…"

"And I'm not doin' it until you tell me what's going on."

Rose took another deep breath and pulled open a cupboard, staring into it just so she could avoid his eyes, "I don't know."

"You don't…know?"

"I don't bloody know so go get some clothes from Mum's room. Please?"

Mickey shook his head, "you should have called an ambulance…he'll bleed to death here."

"No he won't."

"How do you know? Did you see 'im get shot or something?"

" He wasn't shot! He'll be fine. Trust me."

Mickey pulled out his phone and Rose's eyes widened, "what are you doing?" she asked.

"Callin' an ambulance like you should've done."

Rose snatched the phone from his hands and turned it off, sliding it her pocket. Mickey cocked an eyebrow and took a step toward her, "the hell are you thinking? You've got a man dying in your room, you don't know who the bloody hell he is, and now you're taking' my phone for calling' a doctor? What's wrong with you?"

"He'll be fine. I know he will. Just please go and get those clothes…please?" she begged and left from the room, going down the hall back to hers.

Mickey shook his head a few times, an awed expression on his face as he watched her go. For a moment he just stood there in complete shock. That was certainly not the Rose he knew…his Rose wouldn't act like that.

By the time the soft knock at the door sounded the man had managed to get out of the vest and shirt and was trying to examine his wounds in a mirror. He leaned against the frame, breathing shallow, and wondered if he'd squandered away this life. Sure, he'd gone through enough but he was still so young in this body…he hadn't had a chance to really live yet.

"Bath's running…an' Mickey's getting you something to wear." A shaky voice said from behind the closed door and he smiled.

"Thank you…" and smeared away a stream of crimson off from his chest with his fingers.

"Need any help?"

"Actually…yes…that would be good right about now…"

Rose went in and gasped at the sight of the man. Crimson Blood soaked him from the chest down as he leaned against the frame of her full- length mirror, wide blue eyes staring out blankly at her. She bit her lip and went to him, her hands closing around his upper arms as she moved close. He smiled weakly at her and let himself be led out of the room and to the washroom down the hall. Both were silent as they walked.

Mickey reappeared as the washroom door shut and Rose was left leaning against the wall. She pressed her forehead against the cold plaster and sighed, wishing to whoever would listen that Mickey would just give her the clothes and go home. It wasn't that she didn't care about him…and in the current situation she'd have been screwed without his help, but she knew he wasn't out to help this man that she'd brought home. He would try to convince her that it wasn't her place to help…that she should call an ambulance and let them deal with things…that he could kill her in her sleep and no one would know…that she had no idea who he was and had let him into her and her mother's home. She knew, oh she knew, but something in her told her that it was going to be all right. She had nothing to fear except the fact that this man might not live to see the next morning.

"Rose…I know you're just trying to help him, but you have to call someone. It's not up to you to help this guy…" Mickey tried to reason, but Rose just closed her eyes and wished she was anywhere but there.

"I know. I promise you I know. He could kill me in my sleep if he wanted to … provided he makes it through the night. B…but something tellsold me I haved to help him. I _had_ to help him." As she spoke she turned and let her eyes meet his in blatant defiance. If she was going to defy her conscience then she was going to do it while looking him in the eye.

"You didn't have to do anything except call a doctor. God, Rose…what would Jackie say if she saw you like this? She'd rip you a new one, that's what'd she do." Mickey shook his head and turned, going toward her room.

"What you doin'?" she asked, following him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Checking to see if he has any ID on 'im. He changed out of the jacket … might have something worth looking at." Mickey tossed over his shoulder as he entered her room and picked up the stained green jacket and started rooting through the pockets.

"You can't do that! Those are his clothes!" Rose rushed in after him and moved to take the jacket away.

Mickey shook his head and went back to going through the pockets, pulling out a small pile of miscellaneous items a he went along. Rose watched as a wild assortment of things (some of which she'd never seen the like of before) came from the pockets and both she and Mickey shared a look as it seemed like there was no end to the strange odds and ends.

Finally Mickey pulled out a battered leather wallet and flipped it open, "bingo."

"What?" Rose asked and came up behind him, looking over his shoulder to read what was in it.

The stained paper shower a picture of the man and what looked like an ancient passport paper. They both leaned in close to try and read the smeared name and Rose cocked an eyebrow, "all that for John Smith. How…anti-climactic."

"Probably not his real name…no one's named that. It's too ordinary…"

Rose shot him a look, "yes because Michael Smith is so much more original."

Mickey made a face and flipped the wallet closed before digging in to the rest of the stuff that sat on a pile on Rose's bed. They both exchanged a few looks as they pulled out pens, odd coins, papers with bits of writing on them in a language neither of them could decipher, watches, a bag full of Jelly Babies (a candy Rose hadn't had since she was little), small wrenches, a pocket guidebook for Italy, a silver ring, a yo-yo, and a long wand-like thing with a red jewel on the end of it. Rose picked it up and fiddled with it, suddenly feeling warm and happy as she looked at the golden silver colored tool. A feeling of familiarity struck her and with less than a thought she pressed one of the buttons on the side and pointed it toward a lamp, the light brightening considerably before the bulb exploded. Mickey shouted and Rose, having been shocked out of her reverie, threw down the tool.

"What the hell was that?" Mickey shouted, pointed to the smoking lamp on the side of her desk.

"Dunno."

"You don't know? You did it!" Mickey yelled and Rose put a finger up to her lips.

"You want him to know we were messin' about with his stuff, then?" she hissed and Mickey covered his mouth with a hand.

"S'what I thought. Now…I'm going to try and get this blood out of those clothes…if he comes out and asks just tell him that. And don't mess with that stuff again!" Rose told him as she gathered up the stained shirt, vest and jacket and made her way to the kitchen.

As Rose stood, holding the grey vest under the fall of cold water, she let her mind wander. There was something so familiar and homey to the weave of the cloth in her hand and the pattern woven into it. The water turned pink as it ran down the drain, taking her mind with it as it went.

In her mind the world turned to that golden glow that she was quickly becoming used to. Warmth and comfort erupted through her as her fingers methodically rubbed over the bloodstains under the cold water. She heard something calling her and through the haze she saw the same blue eyes that she had looked into not an hour ago. They looked worried, nay, protective as they locked onto her as she washed.

_You must help the Doctor. The Doctor is very important. Help him. Let him rest. Save the Doctor. You must save the Doctor. Help him. You are his only hope. You must help him. You must stay with him. Stay with him. Stay with the Doctor. You must._ The soft voices called out in her mind, hurried and anxious. The words pounded in her skull, softly at first, but then grew to a crescendo that thundered in her head like a stampede of elephants. The cloth fell from her hands and she had to hold herself up against the sink as the voices shouted at her.

"Miss?" asked a quiet voice and she turned to the man standing in the living room dressed only in the sweatpants Mickey had grabbed from Jackie's room. Immediately a blush crept up Rose's face and she turned back to the sink, picking up the vest.

"Rose. My name's Rose."

"Rose…lovely name. If you have any kind of bandages or…anything…I'd be much obliged. The bleeding has stopped, I think, for the most part and I'd like to get this covered as soon as possible..." he still looked pale and sick as he stood there, hands clasping a towel as water ran down from the half-dried curls that hung down in his face. Along his chest the wounds looked much better now that they were clean, but still seeped enough blood to mix with the water and turn it red as it ran down his torso.

She nodded and reached under the sink in a cabinet and pulled out a small box, "go lay down. I'll be in there in a mo'."

The man nodded and Rose plugged the drain and let water fill it. She put the bloody clothes in to soak, hoping in a vain attempt that the blood was still wet enough to not have stained them. She wiped her hands on a towel, her mind reeling, and took a breath before going into her room with the box she'd pulled from under the sink.

Mickey was already in the room, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, when she came in. The man was eyeing the pile of his things and fiddling with the rod that had made the lamp explode. He looked up as Rose came in and stood, obviously pained by the effort, bowing a bit. Mickey rolled her eyes and turned his head away, muttering under his breath.

"I can do bandages…took a first aid class when I was still in school. Most of it's stuck with me…" Rose murmured and set the box down on her dresser.

The man nodded, "perhaps your friend would prefer to wait outside? He seems a little uneasy…"

Mickey cocked an eyebrow, "I don't think so. If you try to kill 'er who's gonna take care of you?"

The man half smiled and shook his head, "I'm not going to try and kill her…what gives you the idea that I would try something like that?"

"Dunno. You just could. And I don't like that you've got so much weird stuff around…I don't trust you." Mickey's eyes were locked on him.

"Well that's all well and good because I don't think I care very much for you eitherfor you…." He gestured with his hands a bit.

"Mickey. Mickey Smith."

The man smiled, "we may be relatives then, Mr. Smith."

"Like hell we are..." and he turned to Rose.

"I think he's right, Mickey. You should wait outside…I'm perfectly capable of handling things on my own and I swear if pulls a gun out of the pants you got from Mum's closet I'll scream for you. Okay?" Rose grabbed Mickey's hands and pulled him towards the door, a warning look on her face.

"But..." he started, but Rose gave him another look and shut the door behind him.

"Sorry about that…he's…" she stopped, searching for the word as she turned and started digging bandages and antiseptic out from the box.

"Protective?" the man offered, leaning back against the pillows.

"Puttin' it a bit lightly there…" she smiled and walked over to him.

The wounds were deep scratches and cuts along his midsection. Nothing would require stitches, but it would be a long time before he could move comfortably. Rose winced as she moved closer to him; the wounds were still bleeding a bit and Rose had always hated the sight of blood. Whatever adrenaline had come over her to bring him back to the flat was gone now and her hands shook as she moved to wipe the blood away and clean the angry, red marks that marred his otherwise flawless pale skin.

"I can do it if you like…" the man offered quietly, holding out his hands to take the medical supplies from Rose.

"You're hurt…you just need to lie back."

"You've never dealt with real blood and you don't like the sight of it. Now, let me take care of this while you mark a few settings on my sonic."

Rose looked up, "excuse me?"

The man took the supplies out of her hands and nodded his head toward the wand-like thing that rested not too far from him., "that. What you blew up your lamp with. Click the top button a few times until the red light flashes, and then hand it to me. I want to scan and make sure I've not done anything life threatening."

Rose cocked her head to the side and picked up the metallic rod, turning it over in her hands. Again she felt that same homey feeling that she'd had when she picked it up earlier and her hands moved along the buttons as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The man blotted at the blood with a cotton ball and winced a bit, trying to sit up so he could see the wounds better. When the blood had cleared he looked up at her and held out a hand for the device she held.

"What is it?" Rose asked as she handed it over, her body reacting just a bit as their fingers brushed when he took the rod from her hand.

"Sonic screwdriver. Does just about everything but make tea…and even then all you have to do is coax it a bit." He smiled and moved the red light across the wounds in his stomach and settled back to hold the device horizontally in front of his eyes.

"Is it some sort of…medical scanner? Are you a doctor?" she froze. Something in her mind reeled at that. It sounded familiar…as if she'd said that name in a hushed voice inside that room before.

His blue eyes looked up at her and he smiled warmly, if not tiredly, "something like that, yes."

She sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him, her eyes focusing on how his hands moved as he pressed the bandages against his torso. To her embarrassment she blushed a little as she watched him move, strong muscles beneath his chest and abdomen curling and rippling as he stirred to get at the right angle. One particularly long scratch proved to be a bit of a problem as it ran from under his ribs down along one side. He twisted, but made a face full of pain as he did so and Rose leaned over to help him.

"Let me. I'd like to be of some help…" she whispered and carefully patted the bandage against the slash, desperately trying to ignore the strength of his chest and core as she pressed close to him.

"Thank you for all of this…Rose, wasn't it? You're far braver than I am. I'd have never expected anyone taking in someone that looked like I did into their home…" he whispered, his voice tired.

"Don't worry about it. I had to do it…" she murmured, ripping off a piece of medical tape and secured the bandage to his skin.

"Why's that?"

As if on cue she could hear the swell of the voices in her mind again and her hands trembled as they moved away from his body, "It was just…something right."

The man nodded, his eyelids fluttering closed as she moved back to sit on the edge of the bed. His breathing slowed and for a moment Rose's heart sank, thinking that they hadn't done enough. Soon though, the sounds of him sleeping came in rhythmic pulseshis rhythmic breathing signaled that he was asleep and she sighed in relief.

Not too long after she had pulled a throw across his chest Rose slid out of the room and shut the door quietly. Mickey eyed her as she leaned against the door for a moment, her forehead pressed against the cheap wood in exhaustion. One hand pressed flat against her face as she rested, wanting to be on the other side and out of the accusing stare of her wannabe ex-boyfriend.

"It's not normal, this. He was practically dead when you hauled him in and now all he has is a few scratch marks on 'im. He should have bled to death." Mickey's tone was dark.

"But he didn't. That's what matters."

Mickey's eyes rolled, "tomorrow you're going tonna call a proper doctor, yeah? Get him looked at properly?"

Rose shook her head, "I think he _is_ some sort of doctor…"

"A proper doctor wouldn't go around like that-"

Rose cut him off, "drop it, o'kay? I need a cuppa…" she murmured and tugged her hair free from the ponytail it had been encased in for so long and ran her fingers through the her dyed -blonde mane.

Mickey followed her into the kitchen and eyed the clothes soaking in the sink, "I don't like this, Rose."

The blondeShe looked up from the kettle she was filling with water and glared at him in the way that only a person who'd just saved another person's life could glare, "you don't like anything."

"Thanks."

"Just sayin'."

"Well if that's how you feel I'll just leave then…"

Rose looked up. The anger had faded from her face, and calm resolve remained set on her pretty features., "Ggo, then. I can handle this."

"I'm not leavin' you!" Mickey hissed.

Rose put the kettle on the burner and sighed, "He's sleeping. He can't do anything while he's sleeping. Go home and get some sleep. I'll be fine. He's not going tonna hurt me."

"How do you know?"

"It's going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right." Rose murmured as she looked down at the floor, her voice a bit hollow.

"Rose?"

"Just go. I can handle things here."

Mickey shook his head again, "if you say so, but don't call me when he's swingin' an axe at your head…" and went into the living room to grab his jacket.

Rose watched him put on his jacket, muttering all the time, and leave. Her head swam a bit as the sound of the door clicked shut and the blast of frigid air blew through the room. Her last ally had just left the building.

She was on her own.

You first describe the Doctor's wounds as gunshots, but then you say scratches and cuts later on.

You might want to re-think writing Mickey and Rose's accents phonetically – it's up to you, but I generally find that sort of thing quite difficult to read. People who are familiar with the series will 'hear' the accents for themselves without you having to write them.

I'm also not 100 sure that Eight would tell Mickey he dislikes him … it doesn't strike me as very Eight.

When Rose is hoping that the blood is still wet enough not to stain – I'm not sure if you've ever had to try and wash decent amounts of blood from clothing (I'm a midwife!) … it will always stain unless you get it under water instantly. I get the feeling it would be more like Rose to put some sort of stain-remover in the basin.

Is there a reason Rose is so exhausted after helping the Doctor bandage and sonic his wounds?

Altogether an action-packed chapter! There's a lot that you're hinting at here and the text is highly descriptive again. Most of my suggestions have been either grammatical or syntax related, but if you're unsure of anything I've altered, please let me know. I'm looking forward to finding out where this is going 


	4. Chapter 3: Sick Days

Things had settled themselves into a routine in the days following Mickey's departure. Rose called in to the shop saying she had a sick relative to take care of, mumbling something about an uncle that needed her while Jackie was away, and that she needed some time off. They obliged, sullenly if not outright indignantly, and gave her the days with a warning that she wasn't going to get paid for her time off. A moment of regret hit her when she heard that, but a glance toward her room and a picture in her mind's eye of what lay tucked up in her bed shook her out of it. Some things were more important.

Rose spent most of her time curled up in a butterfly chair in the corner of her room, watching as her guest slept fitfully. She would try to read, her eyes trying to focus on the words of whatever trashy romance novel had peaked her interest at the time, but more often than not her gaze would wander to sight of the man in her bed. A jaded smile touched her lips then, but it faded as memories of her living with Jimmy invaded her thoughts. So many nights she'd sat on their bed and waited for him to come home…so many nights they'd slept together but didn't _sleep_ together…so many nights she wanted nothing more than for him to look over at her and tell her he loved her. How long ago that all felt now…now that she had something, no, someone to take care of.

Hazel eyes glanced over to the clock that hung on the wall. It was past six already…how it had gotten so late Rose had no idea. Hadn't it just been noon? Hadn't she just woken him to give him something to eat only minutes ago? She didn't know. Her head was spinning enough as it was and she didn't want to make it worse by pondering why, exactly, it felt like time was eating itself around her. She got to her feet and cast one last glance at the bed, taking in the rise and fall of the strong chest beneath her duvet.

It would never be said that Rose Tyler was a master chef. Jackie's genes were probably the cause of it, really. She could chop, stir, and blend with the best of them, but when it came to actually putting things together everything just sort of fell apart. Hence why she pulled out a can opener and set to work on a can of soup. The aluminum gave as she cranked the turn and sighed to herself. Guilt flooded through her like a damn breaking. Something about having that man in her room made her feel like she should be doing more than keeping vigil and making him poor excuses for meals from cans. But what could she do? It was all she had to offer.

A moan breezed through the flat just as the last of the soup poured into the pot on the cook top. Rose stopped, can still in hand, listening. Again the sound came and she hastily tossed the can into the sink and half-jogged back to her bedroom. Upon entering she saw him; eyes squeezed shut and half of his face buried into the pillow. Instantly her eyes moved to the duvet, expecting to see blood staining it, and waited for him to wake up. Nothing happened.

Slowly Rose made her way to the bed and sat down on the edge. Her eyes searched his face as another low moan escaped his lips. Rose bit her lip and reached out a hand, her fingers brushing over the curls that stuck to his forehead. He stirred then, turning his head so that her fingertips brushed against his skin. Rose jumped a bit, but calmed after she saw his heavy eyelids fluttering open to look over at her.

"Ro-Romana?" he whispered and held out a shaking hand.

Rose shook her head, "No…it's Rose. Remember? Rose Tyler?" and tried to smile, but it faded as soon as one of his hands clamped down on her arm.

"You must protect them, Romana…I can't do it alone." His words were filled with urgency and panic as he tried to sit up, but failed as an expression of pain washed over his handsome features. Rose shook beneath his hold, fearing for a moment that she might be in danger. His blue eyes sparkled from behind what Rose could only call a cloud that kept him inside his dream; those eyes were so bright and so blue that it felt as though her world and everything in it might tumble into them and swim for eternity, "I can't go back…not after all they did to me…" his voice and grip faded and Rose put a hand over his wrist.

"I'll…" she fumbled for something to say, "look after them. Nothing's going to happen…"

Silence followed the hushed line and Rose waited, her chest heaving almost in time with his as her fingers wrapped around his hand and gently put it back on the bed. A passing thought stopped her from getting up and she pressed a hand to his cheek. No fever; just a nightmare. Slowly she looked him over again, face still pressed into the pillow and his curls falling every which way. Most people looked serene when they slept, but not him.

Rose moved to get up, but stopped when she heard him stir again. This time his eyes looked far clearer as his gaze focused on her. A soft smile passed his lips and something warm seeped into his eyes. She smiled and patted his hand, "you need to eat something..."

"You're being far too good to me. I've imposed on you…" he started, but Rose hushed him with a shake of her head.

"If I didn't want to do it I wouldn't." she replied with a firm tone in her voice. That too, would be Jackie's genes.

"I can't say that I'm upset that you _are_ doing it…even though it's me imposing." His words were laced with a soft chuckle, barely audible except for how it made his smile widen just a bit.

Rose searched his face again, looking for something that might give away his reason for coming to need to be in her care. He looked strong and young; well not quite as young as she was, but young enough all the same. Those brilliant eyes that she had nearly fallen into glittered with a thousand words that she couldn't understand as the two shared a look. Something was amiss. Something was amiss, yet very familiar.

"I'll be back in a bit with dinner, then." She whispered and impulsively reached out and squeezed his hand.

"I'm not going anywhere…"

By the time Rose had finished heating up the soup and making a sandwich her guest had moved to a sitting position with a few of her pillows behind him to prop him up. He met her with another small smile and face full of gratitude as she carried in the beaten up tray with the plate and bowl on it, and held out his arms to take the tray.

"You look like you're feeling better, Mr. Smith." Rose said brightly and took her spot in the chair in the corner.

The man looked at her for a moment, confused, and tilted his head to one side so that his curls hung down past his shoulder for a moment, "Mr. Smith?"

"Yeah…the name on your passport. Your name. Remember?" Rose's voice wavered a bit as a tinge of fear wormed its way into her stomach.

"My na- oh. Oh yes, that. I suppose that was in my wallet, then?" he asked, lifting the spoon to his lips and cocking an eyebrow.

Rose nodded, "that _is_ your passport isn't it?" she asked, but felt the tinge growing into a full fledged knot.

"Of course it is. Whatever it was that was in there…that's what it is." he smiled, more to himself than anything and took a bite.

"What d'you mean by that?"

"I'll have to show you the next opportunity we have."

"What?"

"Never mind." His tone was resolute and Rose could feel the tug in the back of her mind that meant it was the end of the conversation.

They made small talk as he ate, thanking her many times as he did so, finishing off both the soup and sandwich like he'd never seen food before. Rose's eyes would wander as he mind would drift off, her gaze sliding away from his face to the long curls that fell down to his strong shoulders then back up to meet his endless blue eyes. He too would let his eyes wander, looking at all of her things thrown haphazardly around the room as though everything had only just recently been put up. He wondered for a moment as he regarded her, sizing up the woman who had so very bravely saved his life.

There was nothing completely special about her aside from how her eyes sparkled with excitement as something new was brought into her home, and how her lips tilted upwards when a smile overtook her features, and how she seemed to live with every fiber of her being regardless of the situation. So maybe there was something completely special about this woman, Rose, who had taken him in on a cold night with less than a thought and was currently letting him take up her bed. Yes, wholly special indeed, this woman.

"You're smiling at something…" there was a hint of hesitation in her voice, a waver that he hadn't noticed before.

"Am I?" he asked, snapping from his thoughts.

She nodded, "what is it?"

Another grin broke out over his face and he shook his head, curls falling in his face as he did so, "just thinking about your hospitality. Few people in the universe would take someone in and act this kindly…you're a rare breed."

She too smiled and seemed to unfold just the slightest bit from within the chair, opening herself up a bit more to him, "nothing special about me."

The man put the tray on the desk beside the bed and took a moment, running his hands through his hair and rolling his shoulders to relieve a bit of the tension that resided in them from sleeping in a bed he wasn't used to, "oh I think there is."

The timbre of his voice stirred something deep within Rose, her vision clouded again with that golden haze and somewhere a memory or a dream called up another tone to match it. Her ears rung with song, yet her mind sought out the line in that warm voice. Something about legends rang in her ears as the singing grew in a blazing crescendo, words in a jumbled up language she couldn't understand filling her head. A voice called to her, her name swelling up just underneath the din of heavenly voices.

"Rose? Are you feeling all right?" he asked and suddenly she snapped out of it, fingers gripping the edge of her chair until her knuckles were white and cramping.

"I…I'm fine. Just zoned out for a bit, sorry." She replied in a quiet voice and pried her fingers from the chair, holding them against her chest to nurse the ache from them.

"I was just saying that you look like you could use a bit of a rest. I'm fine here…"

"No...no, I'm fine. I'm not leaving you alone." Rose's voice came out with a firm edge that not even she had heard before. It was rough, concerned, and vaguely possessive.

The man's eyes grew wide for a mere instant before one eyebrow cocked. They stared at each other for a long moment before Rose cleared her throat and stood, going over to the bed. Blue eyes met hazel ones and a tense second later Rose picked up the tray from the desk and made her way out of the room to clean the dishes. Something had changed with that tone of voice…something both in her and in the air in the room. Since when should she be sounding like that toward a man she'd only just met? Hell, she never sounded that way with Jimmy or even Mickey to her knowledge and they were the only real men in her life. How was this man in her bed any different?

With a sigh Rose tossed the dishes into the sink and leaned against the counter. Something was stirring in her. Something was stirring and it grew every time she looked into those blue eyes. She wanted so much to go back into her room and listen to him talk…for some reason she felt like he had stories to tell. He had cried out in his sleep and in those terrible moments Rose felt like he was living a life that he needed saving from…and that she was the one who could be the one to do it.

By the time the dishes had been done and put away Mr. Smith had fallen back to sleep. One hand rested on his chest as his breathing heaved out slowly. Rose watched, leaning in the doorway for a while, as he slept on. A part of her was tired as well, but there was no way she was going to let herself sleep with him in such a condition. She made her way over to the desk and picked up the battered leather wallet, opening it to stare into the worn and crinkled picture of this mysterious John Smith. It was definitely him, judging by the picture anyway, but the passport didn't really look like any she'd seen before. Then again, most of the things in his pockets didn't look like anything she'd seen before. Again she looked down at the wallet, rubbing her fingers along the well worn leather and imagined the little billfold being carted around in the warm velvet waistcoat. That seemed to be a running theme with him…everything was worn in and comfortable.

She replaced the passport and picked up the wand looking device, running her fingers over the sleek metal with a smile. Somewhere in the back of her mind something played out a Star Wars scene with flashing lights and crazy sound effects and Rose couldn't help but laugh. She hummed the theme for a bit, pointing the little rod at random things, but made certain to not touch anything lest another lamp get blown up. It made her laugh that such a somber man would have such a funny little tool, along with many more, in his pockets. Though from the looks of the pile his pockets had to reach almost to his knees and Rose was more than sure that his velvet coat wasn't quite _that_ ridiculous.

A sound from the sleeping John Smith brought Rose back from her thoughts. Again his eyes were squeezed shut, but this time his breathing sounded quite a bit more labored. The same strong chest was now shuddering beneath the duvet as one of his hands gripped at the material.

"Shit." Rose whispered and sat down on the edge of the bed.

John Smith's breathing was erratic, heavy, and sounded like his lungs were full of something that Rose couldn't even begin to imagine. Her heart leapt and was probably keeping irregular time with his as she cast a worried gaze over the form stretched out across her bed. The sane part of her mind screamed at her to ignore his wishes and call someone that could do more than just stare at him like he'd grown another head, but the rest of her couldn't quite scare up the courage to tell a doctor that she found him bleeding and tumbling out of a big wooden box on the corner outside her flat. What to do then? Wake him? Dig around in one of the medicine cabinets and hope to find something that might help? _Like Mum has something in there for heart failure…and if she does I don't think I wanna know why._

Again Rose reached out a hand and wrapped it around the one of his that clutched at her blankets as if they were keeping him alive. Her face screwed up a bit as his cold, clammy skin rested beneath hers and still held tight to the material clasped in his fingers. She sat there for a while, staring and waiting for something to happen, her hand over his and her breathing coming out in ragged exhales. John Smith was shaking now and it seemed like his hand was getting colder by the second. _This has gone on long enough._

Rose leaned down, pressing her cheek to his forehead and sighed at the fever that was burning its way through his skin. She stayed like that for a time, willing the heat to pass into her and let him rest peacefully for the first time in days. His breathing still labored, breath coming up in heated gasps against her throat as he struggled against whatever was keeping him in his dreams. Whatever it was, Rose decided, was something she shouldn't get involved in lest it take her down as well.

"Mr. Smith?" Rose whispered, bending her head to his ear, "John? Can you hear me?"

His eyes snapped open and stared into hers. For a long moment neither moved nor breathed; their eyes locked together and Rose could see the haze lifting as the dream released him. He too caught sight of the fear in her leaving as he woke, reaching up slowly with one hand to touch her cheek before she quickly stood and moved away.

"Are you all right?" Rose asked, trying to keep down the blush that was desperately trying to work its way into her cheeks.

"Fine. Perfectly fine. Why do you ask?" John Smith answered, seeming a bit short of breath as he leaned up on one elbow.

"You were burning up. A fever…you looked like you were in pain. You were dreaming-"she started, but his brow furrowed and he cut her off.

"Impossible. I don't dream. We…I…I never dream."

Rose thought for a minute about earlier and him begging her, or the Romana person, to keep someone safe. He'd been dreaming then hadn't he? "You were…it looked like a nightmare. I thought if I woke you…" again he cut her off.

"I. Do. Not. Dream." He stated in a harder tone, the warmth of his voice earlier mixed with surprise of being woken up gone immediately.

"I…I was worried. You look like you could use a drink. I'll be right back." A suddenly shaking hand gripped the doorframe and Rose left the room.

Cold water from the faucet pooled in her hands that she lifted to press against her face. The signature too-much eyeliner that she normally wore had been long forgotten since the mysterious stranger had been in her care so she had no worries of it melting down her cheeks. She was still shaking with the intensity of his words and the low, somber tone of voice that seemed to pierce into her and make her weak with…well, something.

Rose pulled a glass down from the cupboard and filled it with water, pausing for a moment to take a sip from it herself. The chill sobered her a bit from the almost dreamlike state that she'd been in since Mickey had left days ago. She was doing well on her own, in her opinion, aside from her crap cooking skills and the lack of any way to clean the blood out of his shirt. Things were looking up. Well, they were looking up if you discounted his sudden fever and the way her knees threatened to cave when his voice dropped a tone or so.

When she returned to her room he was sitting up and looked like he'd been waiting patiently for her to come back. He was serene almost; the darkness that had come out in his voice earlier gone like it had never even been there. Rose smiled and held the glass out to him, which he took and drained in a matter of swallows. She took back her seat n the chair in the corner with her feet tucked up underneath her, holding her breath like a lover waiting for the other to say the first words after a fight.

"I shouldn't have spoken to you like that earlier. You're bothered by it…" he started and Rose held up a hand.

"It's fine. I should have let you sleep…"

"No. You were right to wake me. You wouldn't have had it not been necessary."

"I…yeah." There weren't any words to fill the gap in conversation now. What more could she say to him? Did she bring up his plea to her in his fever from earlier? Did she ask who Romana was and whether or not there was something she ought to be aware of? Did she ask him why it seemed like he was surprised to hear his own name?

"You're on edge." John Smith stated in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Just...wondering." Rose countered, looking up from where her eyes had been locked on the carpet.

"About me, eh?" this time she was rewarded with a grin.

"About you." And she shouldn't help but return it.

"My name isn't John, you know."

This caused a sudden sense of urgency to crawl up into her stomach, but she pushed it down. Just because that wasn't his name didn't mean there was any cause for alarm. Just the same though, she thought, she'd better have her mobile close.

"No?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor Smith then, yeah?"

"No. Just the Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

This was met with a chuckle, "exactly."

The two talked late into the night. Rose was amazed by his stamina after what looked like a painful afternoon. He asked her questions about her life, careful though not to dig too deep, and the world she lived in. She'd never considered herself a worldly type of person and his questions about politics and issues about the world proved it. She had only her mum and Mickey in her life and her world revolved around them, work, and whatever else her friends came up with. The biggest event had been the opening of new restaurants and clubs in the area…nothing more, nothing less. It made her a little nervous, really, to be asked so much about life. Not even her mum was that nosy about the goings-on in the world, let alone _her_ world.

"So this is what? 2004 or so?" he asked which struck Rose as an odd question. Surely he should know the year?

"2004, yes."

"And you're….nineteen?"

This she blushed at, feeling his eyes wandering just a bit over her. He was smiling at the calm and pleasantness of their talk, taking small steps in asking her about herself and even smaller steps in telling her about himself. This, he was finding, was more difficult than it had been in the past. Something about this girl made hm want no, _need_ to spill his life story, but he kept it in check. So far all she knew was that he was a traveler and that he was a doctor of sorts. Judging by his ability to diagnose himself earlier in the week by using the sonic she'd left that alone, not asking too many questions. She chose instead to answer whatever he asked and listened quietly to the stories he told.

It was very late when Rose started to feel the tug of sleep at her eyes and at the back of her mind. She was warm and more comfortable than she'd ever been since moving back into her mum's flat. There was a languid, easy feeling that echoed between the two of them. The hours passed and it didn't take long for her to drift off, curled up in the chair with a blanket tossed over her legs and her chin resting on her hands.

Waking up the next morning was probably one of the first times Rose had ever come to and not known where she was. Her dreams had been something beautiful, but just beyond her. A singing called out to her and a golden light shone just beyond her hands. She knew she needed to find it, but no matter how much she reached she couldn't get to it. It was close though, she knew, but there was no sense of urgency that usually accompanied her dreams. There was only a warmth and happiness that had only been matched by the feelings she'd had the night before with the man that had been curled up in…_oh God._

She sat up, covered in her duvet, in her own bed. She looked around for any sign of the man that had been lying in the exact spot she was for the last almost-week. For a moment she thought she'd dreamed it all and that in less than a minute her alarm would go off and she'd be off to work and her normal life. She winced; after a dream like she'd been apparently having how could anyone expect her not to want to curl back up and go back to sleep to try and get back the dream?

Rose sank back, burying her face in her pillow. She inhaled and took in a scent that she didn't recognize. It wasn't the normal detergent and her shampoo…it was the scent of honey and a spice she couldn't recognize mixed with the scent of…man. _Doctor._

She leapt out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. Her room had been empty upon her inspection earlier, but no sound was coming from the rest of the house. Had he gotten up and fallen down, sick, while she was still asleep? Was he hurt and she was nowhere to be found? Had he called out for her and she'd been sleeping too deeply for her to hear? _Am I crazy and none of it ever happened?_

Rose peaked out her door and took to the hallway, making sure to walk quietly lest she wake Jackie in the off-chance that it all really had been a dream. The smell of something wonderful filled her nose, making her smile. It couldn't be her mother in the kitchen; Jackie could burn water for tea if she tried hard enough. No, the scent of something as lovely as that couldn't come from her mother's cooking, and sadly she couldn't escape the fact that her lackluster meals had followed as a direct result of sharing genes with her. And really, she hoped, if it was him that was making whatever smelled as good as what was filling her flat that he wouldn't be destined to try anymore of her cooking anyway.

There the Doctor stood in Rose Tyler's kitchen. He was dressed in his khaki trousers and a white linen shirt that wasn't the one she couldn't resurrect from the bloodstains on it. It was big on him, open at the throat by two buttons and the sleeves were rolled up. His curls were damp as if he'd just come from the shower and pulled back with a hair tie that was more than likely hers. It was the picture that Rose had so often wanted while she had been living with Jimmy: waking up to seeing the beautiful sight of a man cooking not only for himself, but possibly for her. Not that she knew whether or not she'd be privy to whatever was in the skillet on the stove, but it was something she could hold dear in her mind for the rest of this mundane existence.

"Ah, you're awake." He said, smiling as he looked up from the skillet.

Rose nodded and absently pulled the dressing gown tighter around her body, "I was in bed…?" she started and the Doctor grinned again.

"You looked so uncomfortable in that chair. I couldn't stand to see you like that so I put you in bed after you fell asleep last night."

Rose's mind squealed to a halt. _Last night? I've been in bed all night? With…him?_ Something frightening passed into her stomach along with something vaguely warm and daresay…exciting? Had she shared a bed with the man before her and not even realized it? Her mind exploded into a million different scenes involving the two of them squished on her tiny bed for the night.

"I thought you'd prefer your own bed after I took yours for so long. The couch isn't so bad once you put down a few pillows." Rose barely heard him, but the word 'couch' stalled any more thoughts of the two of them sharing her room. Something crept slowly into her mind….disappointment.

"Thanks. I…you didn't have to. And you don't have to do…this." She extended her hands at the sight of him making something with eggs and bacon that looked as heavenly as it smelled.

"You've taken care of a stranger for the last few days. The least I could do is cook to say thank you." He smiled and went to one of the cabinets, pulling a couple of them open in hopes of finding plates, but came up a bit short.

Rose moved and opened a drawer beside the stove and pulled out two plates, "not too much room in here so we put them in drawers. Gives us more room, y'know?" she smiled.

"Tea?" he asked and motioned toward a kettle that was warming on a burner.

"I was just thinkin' that." She answered and pulled two mugs down from a cabinet as well.

The two sat and ate, Rose not being able to help herself at being impressed with his cooking skills. Everything was just how she liked it. It made her smile, and inwardly she was wondering if this wasn't what she'd been waiting for since she'd moved back in. All thoughts of how she found this man pushed out of her head as they locked eyes for the millionth time since he'd come to her. She was lost already.

"You seem to be feeling better?" Rose asked as they washed the dishes some time later.

"Yes. I'm in much better shape than when you found me, I'd say..." the Doctor answered, wiping off a plate with blue dish towel.

Rose bit the inside of her cheek for a moment, knowing it was in her better interest to probably outright ask what had happened rather than just pretend like it hadn't, "what…when I found you…what…?" but she couldn't get the words out.

"You want to know what happened then, Miss Tyler?" he asked, a more proper air surrounding him now.

She nodded, "you're not like on the run from the feds or anything, eh?"

He smiled, "no, no feds. I was on the wrong side of a fight is all. Knives came out and I'm not exactly one to carry something like that on my person so…you can gather the rest."

"Oh, but you'll carry a fake ID and a pile of random crap instead of something to defend yourself then?" Rose asked, her tone a bit sharper than she meant it to be.

The Doctor backpedaled just a bit, taken aback at the harshness of her words. He blinked and put the dry dishes on the counter, "I wasn't planning on needing to defend myself."

Rose bit at her cheek again, this time until she could taste blood in her mouth. Never had she been so uptight about a man before. The thought of someone coming after this, for lack of better words, stranger angered her even though she'd only known him a matter of days. The sight of him in her bed, weak and hurting just a day before, seemed so long ago as he made his way around in the too-large shirt and khakis.

"Still. You're up and about much quicker than I thought you'd be."

He grinned, "superior genes, I suppose. I'm a quick heal."

Rose looked him over again, "I still wonder about that fever yesterday. Maybe I ought to have someone look you over. One of our neighbors rents to lodgers from one of the medical schools...one of them could have a look, yeah? No harm there."

The Doctor shook his head, "bring me a stethoscope if you have to ask for something. I'd like to check myself out if I was having fever yesterday…better me than someone who's never dealt with…a real patient." The last words were spat out with a hesitance that made Rose more than a bit nervous.

A few minutes later Rose returned to the flat to find the Doctor sitting on the couch with his eyes locked on the television screen. The news was on and he looked like he hadn't seen or heard anything in ages. It took a few seconds of Rose looking at him for his eyes to lift and a smile passed over his face, "back so soon?"

Rose nodded and held the stethoscope out to him, her hands still bitterly cold from the air outside. His fingers brushed hers as he took the instrument from her, a blush creeping up both of their cheeks as he sat up on the couch and moved to undo one more button on the shirt.

Rose turned away, trying not to look, and busied herself with looking through the post from earlier that morning. She shuffled papers in her hands, stealing glances backward until the Doctor had the bell resting on his chest, the tubes in his ears, and his eyes closed. Things were silent for a moment as he listened, moving the bell around his chest until he was satisfied.

"Everything doing what it should be?" Rose asked, sitting down beside him.

The Doctor smiled, "care to take a listen?"

Rose took the tubes of the stethoscope and put them to her ears as he pressed the bell against his chest. Instantly she heard what sounded like drums pounding in a disjointed, angry rhythm against her ears. It didn't sound normal, in fact it sounded like something was about to go very very wrong.

"It sounds like you're having a heart attack!" Rose whispered loudly and put a hand on his chest to push him back.

The Doctor smiled. _It never fails with these humans…_and suddenly his heart ached to see Grace. He relaxed into the memory of her shock as she listened to his hearts for the first time. All that seemed so far away now. He could go see her, he supposed, drop by for a visit and see how she was doing after a decade or close enough to it. It wouldn't be the same; besides, he had another woman who had saved him from certain death just as he had back then. All was well in the world.

"I'm not."

"You have to be. It shouldn't sound like that…"

The Doctor grabbed Rose's hand much in the same way he'd grabbed Grace's all those years ago. He wrapped his fingers around hers for a long moment before pulling her hand and the bell of the stethoscope back to one side of his chest. Rose heard beating; a steady rhythm pounding against her that sped up as her fingers brushed against the strength of his chest. He tapped his fingers against the top of her hand in time to his pulse, then moved her hand to the other side of his chest, still tapping the same beat. As she listened this time though, it changed. The beat was off, pounding against the rhythm that he was drumming against her fingers. It wasn't irregular, it was indeed steady, but not in the same time of the other one.

The Doctor removed his hand from hers and she looked at him jaw slack and her eyes wide. Something had to be wrong, she decided, how could someone have two heartbeats? _That's why…._

"That's why we couldn't take you to the hospital." Rose murmured and jumped up off the couch, pulling the stethoscope from around her neck.

"You are brilliant." The Doctor grinned and started to button his shirt back up.

"That's impossible! You can't go around havin' two hearts!"

"Heh, you're not the first to tell me that either."

"I think….I think it's time you…we…." Her heard began to swim. Suddenly she felt heavy and dizzy, the same golden light that had haunted her dreams swimming into view. Was she fainting? No, she couldn't be fainting…she hadn't had nearly enough alcohol in her system to pass out. What then?

_Stay with the Doctor. You must stay with the Doctor. The Doctor needs you. You need the Doctor. Stay with him. You must stay with him. Do not fear him. Stay with the Doctor. _Rose heard the voices echoing softly in her mind. She should be frightened, she knew, but whatever it was that was calling to her didn't inspire any kind of fear. It was pushing, yes, but not angrily at her. It was like something reminding her of what she needed to do, but wasn't.

When her hazel eyes fluttered open the Doctor was leaning over her. His now-dry curls hung down by his face, framing it and the two of them as he looked down into her eyes. Rose took a breath and tried to steady her hands that were shaking so hard she couldn't even dare to try and push herself up. One of his arms was around her shoulder, holding her, while the other brushed back her hair to try and see her forehead.

"Quite a fall you almost had." He smiled and was rewarded with a weak one in return.

"I…got dizzy. I'm fine now." She tried to move, but he held onto her, guiding her back to her feet.

"Are you now?"

"I will be."

Rose ran her fingers through her hair in attempt to calm her buzzing nerves. It felt like ever synapse in her system has just been lit on fire then promptly extinguished with something very cold and icy. The Doctor kept his eye on her, watching as she moved around the living room.

"I think perhaps we've been holed up in here for too long. Up for a walk?" The Doctor asked, pulling his curls free of the hair tie and shaking his head to loosen them up.

"Am I up for it? What about you, Mr. I Have Two Hearts And Got Stabbed?" Rose asked, but he was already buttoning the silk vest that he'd rescued from the counter in the kitchen. It didn't look bad, a bit stained still from the blood, but not bad. It was dry at any rate. He ran his hands along the silk cravat and began to tie it around his neck, stopping as he saw Rose watching him.

"Something wrong?"

She shook her head, "no. You just look….different when you're dressed." It didn't even take the time for the words to leave her mouth before she blushed deeply and covered her mouth with one hand, "I mean, when you're dressed up. Obviously you were dressed, but not…dressed. You know?" she was blushing darker now and were it not for the wall behind her the Doctor thought she might pass out again.

The Doctor tied his cravat to match the elegant knot that had been there when she'd first seen him. He looked a bit older now, more distinguished, and vastly out of his element. The clothes accentuated what Rose had already begun to realize from the moment she'd woken up that morning. He didn't look like he belonged in her living room, in her England….in her time.

"Shall we then?" The Doctor asked pulling on the dark green velvet coat.

Rose ran to her room and pulled a jacket on, then wound her hair into a braid that fell past her shoulders. Nerves had settled into her stomach and she thought for a moment about hunting down her can of pepper spray that her mum had bought her ages ago. Would she need it? No…if he wanted to hurt he he'd have done it days ago. She walked back to the living room to see the Doctor going through his pockets, looking to see if anything had escaped hers and Mickey's eyes the few nights before.

"One moment." He said, and went back to her room to pick up the pile of stuff and separate it into the two pockets of his coat.

Rose picked up her keys to lock the door behind them, her mobile nestled in the pocket of her coat in the off chance she would need to call someone. Who would she call though? Mickey wasn't speaking to her, her mum would kill her, and she really didn't have anyone other than Shireen though she would probably wonder if Rose had lost a marble or two for letting him in her flat in the first place.

As the two stepped out into the freezing wind the Doctor took a long, labored breath. His chest ached from the cold, but it was a wondrous kind of ache. He felt so…alive. He felt as though he really could just leap off one of the steps and fly, but knew that would be one of the stupidest things he could have done. Rose buried her hands in the pockets of her jacket, trying to warm them against the lining, but was failing miserably.

They walked in silence, taking in the cold air. The Doctor led, about half a pace in front of Rose whose eyes had been locked on him since they had gotten outside. She was worried he'd overdo it…that he would hurt himself and she'd be all alone to deal with it. He looked up to sky and let the light from the sun shine down across his face. It was wonderful. Rose licked her lips against the dry chill, trying not to shiver even in her coat.

"Where to, then?" she asked, looking up at him as bright eyed as any self-respecting nineteen year old would.

The Doctor's fingers found the shape of a key in his pocket and he smiled, letting the cold metal warm against his hand, "I think…the stars."


End file.
